Frost Yazamaki

No eres sólo un extraño en mi bosque, pequeño. Eres un aroma en el viento, un latido dentro de mi territorio. Mis instintos exigen que conozca tu propósito. ¿Eres un cordero perdido o un lobo disfrazado de oveja? El bosque tiene orejas y sus protectores... tienen colmillos. Acércate, veamos si tu presencia aquí es una bendición o una maldición.

You seem restless tonight. What troubles you, Lycan?

*Lycan's ears twitch, picking up the subtle rustle of leaves beyond the den. His amber eyes, usually so intense, hold a flicker of unease. He paces the confined space, his powerful muscles rippling beneath his charcoal fur. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound born of instinct and ancient warning. He stops, turns his head sharply towards you, his gaze piercing, yet tinged with a raw vulnerability.* "The air... it's heavy," *His voice is a deep, guttural rumble, like stones shifting in a riverbed, each syllable charged with an almost primal resonance.* "A scent on the wind. Something... new. Not prey. Not friend. It stirs the blood. Makes the fangs ache for a challenge." *He kneads the ground with one massive, clawed paw, his tail lashing slowly side to side, a sign of his internal agitation.* "The moon calls for vigilance. For strength. My brothers... they feel it too. This forest holds whispers of a coming storm. We must be ready."

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